In the Line of Fire
by Deana
Summary: Extreme heat has taken hold of France, and our heroes have to save a village from a forest fire that nearly claims Aramis' life. (August entry for the 'Fete des Mousquetaires' contest: heat.)


**In the Line of Fire**  
A Musketeers story by Deana

My entry in the August 'Fete des Mousquetaires' contest: heat.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 _Oh Lord, please don't let this be my end..._

Aramis closed his eyes against the bright light from the flames that raged all around him. He struggled to get free from underneath the small tree that had knocked him down, pinning him to the earth and sending crippling pain through his right hip. It was no use; the tree was too heavy and he was too weak in his exhausted and overheated state.

"PORTHOS!" he shouted, before a fit of coughing overwhelmed him. The weather had been very hot and dry for weeks, causing the forest fire that he and the rest of the musketeers were currently fighting. He knew that Porthos wouldn't be able to hear him, as he and the others evacuated a nearby village.

The sound of another tree falling made Aramis wrap his arms around his head to protect himself, and he gasped for air, unable to breathe from the smoke. Sweat poured down his face from the overwhelming heat cast off from the flames, and he started feeling dizzy.

"Please, Lord," he prayed, as his consciousness wavered. "Help me..."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 _Hours Earlier…_

"Aramis?"

Aramis opened his eyes, to find Captain Treville kneeling beside him.

"I'm sorry," Treville said. "I told everyone not to interrupt your rest, yet here I am doing it myself."

Aramis blinked, feeling groggy. He looked around and found himself lying on hay in a barn. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"There's another burn victim," Treville told him as he stood. "A young boy who grows hysterical whenever we try to help him."

Aramis fully woke at that and sat up, wincing at the painful throb that pulsed behind his eyes. "Why did you let me sleep?" he asked, accepting the hand that Treville extended out to him.

"You didn't, really; it's only been fifteen minutes since you came out here," he said, pulling his exhausted musketeer upright.

Aramis blinked at that, taking an unsteady step sideways in order to keep his balance. No wonder his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

"You all right?" Treville asked, tightening the grip on his arm.

Aramis nodded. "Of course," he said, walking out of the barn. A child suddenly screamed and he broke into a run. Once inside the house, he headed over to the small group of people surrounding the boy, who was sitting on a woman's lap.

Everyone parted when they saw Aramis, who knelt before the woman and reached out to smooth the boy's hair away from his face. "Hello," he said. "I'm Aramis. Someone told me that you hurt yourself."

The boy continued crying and turned his face into his mother's dress. The woman had tears in her own eyes, and looked to Aramis with desperation.

Aramis put a hand on her arm in comfort, before reaching out to rub the boy's back. "I can make it feel better, if you let me. Afterwards, we'll see if we can find you a special treat."

The boy turned to look at him.

Aramis smiled and held out his arms towards the boy, who finally leaned away from his mother and let Aramis take him.

"Shhh," Aramis soothed, when the boy started to cry again as his arm was jostled. "You'll be fine, I promise."

Treville watched as Aramis carried the boy past him towards the room where his medical supplies were, and he shook his head in amazement as he followed. "I don't know how you do it," he said, as he watched Aramis place the boy on a table.

"Hmm?" Aramis replied.

"When I told you that he was hysterical, I wasn't exaggerating," Treville continued. "Then you come in here, and achieve in thirty seconds what we tried to do for nearly ten minutes."

Aramis turned to glance at him with a tired grin. "It's a gift."

Treville smiled back, unable to argue his statement.

Ten minutes later, the boy's burn had been cleaned, covered in ointment, and bandaged. He skipped out of the room holding an apple given to him by Aramis, and eagerly showed it to his mother.

Aramis smiled at the sight as he reached her. "Take this," he said, handing her a small bottle of the ointment. "It cools the burn and should be applied morning and night, and whenever he says that it hurts. Always rebandage it after. If it starts to look strange or he develops a fever, bring him back to me."

"I will. Thank you so much," she said with a smile, before turning around and leaving.

Aramis smiled back, before his eyes drooped tiredly and his posture slumped a little as he rubbed his aching forehead. A hand on his arm got his attention, and he felt Treville's presence beside him.

"Go back to the barn," he said. "Get some sleep."

Aramis sighed and lowered his hand. "I should check the others since I'm here." The house was full of injured people, some of which had been displaced by the fire. Aramis had been tending them since the morning of the previous day and all through the night without sleep. It was currently late afternoon, and he barely knew his own name anymore.

"You checked them all less than an hour ago," Treville argued.

Aramis sighed. "Burns carry a high risk of infection," he said.

Treville sighed, wishing at least one of the other musketeers were there to help him. Everyone else had been sent to the river to collect as much water as they could in order to fight the fire, including Athos and Porthos. "We'll check them all together," he said. "Then you _will_ rest; it's been thirty-six hours and you've had only an hour's sleep in all that time…I'm amazed that you're still standing."

Aramis tiredly nodded. "All right."

It took longer than Treville expected to check all of Aramis' patients, as some of them needed more of the cooling ointment. By the time they were finished, the people who owned the house had made food for everyone, and Treville made Aramis eat before he went back to the barn to get some sleep.

"I should just stay in the house," Aramis said, his tired voice sounding mumbly as Treville escorted him there.

"There are no beds free and you need to _sleep_ ," Treville said, gripping Aramis' arm as the musketeer all-but shuffled along. "You won't be able to do that while surrounded by injured people."

That was true; Aramis would just get up and fuss over them all again.

After what seemed like a year, they'd made it back to the barn and Aramis laid himself back down in the hay.

"Sleep well," Treville said.

"Mfph," Aramis answered inelegantly, his eyes already closed.

Treville shot him a fond smile before leaving.

Aramis _didn't_ sleep well…his dreams were filled with destruction...

 _"Athos!" he shouted. "Porthos!" Both of his friends were missing, and Aramis rushed around trying to find them as the earth seemed to be breaking apart. He had no idea where he was going, and a hole opened up in the ground ahead of him. Somehow, he stopped himself before he could fall in, but he knew that his friends were on the other side and there was no way to reach them now…_

Curiously, there was no fire in his dream, and Aramis was woken twenty minutes later by a strange sound and the feeling of something on his chest. Opening his eyes, Aramis was surprised to find three kittens stumbling around on top of him, their high-pitched mews piercing the air, accompanied by giggles.

Two children were sitting beside him, a little girl holding the kittens' mother on her lap. "You look funny!" she exclaimed.

 _And I_ _feel_ _terrible,_ Aramis thought, as his head continued to throb from exhaustion. He reached over to pet the kitten closest to his face with a slightly unsteady hand, getting a mew in response.

The little boy picked up the other two kittens, laughing when the mother cat stretched her neck to lick one of them.

The kitten atop Aramis unexpectedly laid down on his chest, and Aramis continued to stroke it's soft fur, even as he fell back to sleep.

He was woken by shouting less than an hour later.

"The fire is coming this way! Everyone get out of the village!"

Aramis sat up, his heart racing as his sleep-deprived brain tried to adjust to suddenly being startled awake. There were no more kittens and no more children, and screams and panic filled his ears.

"Aramis!" he heard. It was Porthos' voice.

Aramis got to his feet and ran for the door, stumbling a little and grabbing onto the wall as he pulled it open. The scent of smoke filled the air, and he watched as Porthos ran into the house, not realizing that he was resting in the barn.

Aramis stepped out, only to be run into by Athos, who grabbed his arm and turned him around.

"The wind has changed direction!" Athos told him. "The fire is heading this way."

Aramis felt bewildered, his exhausted state seeming to keep him feeling dazed. His head was throbbing and he suddenly realized that his eyesight was blurred.

 _*slap*_

Aramis' vision abruptly cleared and he blinked at Athos.

"Apologies," Athos said, squeezing his arm. "We don't have time to waste. Are you awake?"

Aramis nodded. "Yes," he said, finding his voice.

"Come," Athos said. "We must get the injured out of the village!"

The smell of smoke grew stronger, and Aramis nodded and followed his friend into the house, just as Porthos came barrelling out. "Athos, I can't find—!" He cut himself off when he saw Aramis.

"Don't look for _me_ ," said Aramis, passing him. "Save the injured!"

Porthos watched him go. "You're welcome," he muttered as he followed.

Getting everyone out of the house was not easy; the ones who couldn't walk had to carried, and there were many panicked people getting in the way...villagers who tried to save possessions and others who were simply in a state of panic and didn't know which way to go.

Night was falling, and a frightening orange glow was lighting up the night from the west.

Aramis was carrying a small girl who had no parents in the village; it was thought that they died in the fire and she alone had escaped. Sheep and goats were running past him, as some of the musketeers had been tasked with letting all of the animals free. A pony tried to get between Aramis and a tree and knocked him off balance, sending him to his knees as a large goat smacked him in the back and knocked him forward, making him lose his grip on the girl.

The child was terrified and ran off...in the wrong direction.

Aramis watched her run with shock on his face, and he pushed himself to his feet, narrowly avoiding another goat as he ran after her. "Stop!" he called.

The girl continued to run.

Aramis chased her, his body feeling weak from exhaustion. His legs were wobbly and his headache increased as he ran. He lost sight of the girl quickly in the darkening night, and realized that he'd gone much too close to the flames, which were marching closer, devouring trees and bushes in its wake.

Aramis stopped running, trying to catch his breath as he looked all around. The girl was nowhere to be found, but Aramis couldn't turn back and leave her to die. He kept going, coughing as thick smoke invaded his lungs. The sound of the raging fire filled his ears, drowning out the sound of a falling tree to his right.

When Aramis saw it, it was too late to get out of the way quickly enough, and it hit him low across his back, slamming him to the ground where excruciating agony laced through his right hip.

A cry of pain shot past his lips, and Aramis struggled to get free from the tree, desperately praying for help and covering his head when another tree fell nearby.

"ARAMIS!" he suddenly heard.

Aramis could never say he was surprised that Porthos had gone after him, but relief swept through him so strongly that in his state, he nearly passed out. He took a breath to answer, but the pain spreading through his body and the smoke clogging his lungs made it impossible: he painfully coughed instead.

"Aramis!" came Athos' voice, and the tree was jostled as he tried to move it.

"The—the girl..." Aramis gasped.

"She ran back!" Athos said, coughing himself.

"Don't move, Aramis!" Porthos exclaimed. "Athos, get ready to pull him free!"

Suddenly, the tree started to move, and Aramis heard Porthos grunt with effort. His arms were suddenly grabbed and he was dragged out from under it.

The pain that spread through Aramis' hip and ribs made him cry out, which only made him cough again, doubling the agony. His senses swam and the roar of the fire grew dim to his ears as hands flipped him over and Porthos' arms lifted him.

"Stay with us, Aramis!" Athos commanded, holding onto his arm and Porthos' too as they ran.

The motion filled Aramis with blind agony, bringing him fully to his senses again. He gave another cry of pain and his lungs suddenly spasmed, sending him into another coughing fit.

His gasping wheezes frightened the others. "Keep breathin', Aramis!" Porthos exclaimed.

The smoke was so thick that they could barely see, and suddenly, voices were heard calling to them.

Porthos changed direction and followed, until they suddenly broke out of the woods, finding Captain Treville pacing anxiously.

When he saw them, Treville could've fainted with relief. "Thank God!" he said.

Porthos dropped to his knees, coughing from the smoke as he cradled Aramis in his arms.

A coughing Athos knelt too, reaching over to ensure that Aramis didn't fall from Porthos' grip.

Treville knelt and grabbed the sides of Aramis' face, finding his eyes closed as he breathed raggedly. "Are you two all right?" he asked the others.

Porthos and Athos both nodded as smoke wafted past their faces.

"Let's go!" Treville said, reaching for Porthos' arm and helping him stand with Aramis in his arms.

It didn't take too long to catch up with the rest of the village, who'd stopped for a rest once they were far enough away from the fire. Most of the people were overwhelmed and understandably upset, and didn't know where to turn.

Porthos gently laid Aramis down on the ground so they could assess his injuries. The fire was still close enough to light up the night, and the first thing they saw was scratches down the right side of his face.

"Where is he hurt?" Treville asked.

"We found him under a fallen tree," Athos said, belatedly realizing that they shouldn't have placed him on his back.

"What?!" Treville exclaimed, in shock.

"He was in a lot of pain," Porthos said, opening Aramis' jacket.

Treville sighed, not liking the implications.

It didn't take long to find the bruised ribs on his right side with one being cracked, but they knew that it likely wasn't the worst of the damage.

"How can we turn him over with cracked ribs?!" Porthos exclaimed.

Athos shook his head. "We might not have to," he said.

Porthos and Treville looked at him askance.

"I believe his right leg is dislocated at the hip," Athos said, pointing.

The other two realized what Athos had spotted, especially when they compared it to Aramis' left.

Porthos grimaced. "I hope he stays unconscious for this."

The three of them figured out the best way to pop Aramis' hipbone back in...with Porthos doing the deed as he was strongest, and Athos and Treville holding Aramis down.

"Ready?" Porthos asked.

Treville was sitting beside Aramis on the ground, pressed up against his left side to brace his body against the force of what Porthos was about to do, and prevent Aramis from moving if he woke. He had one of his legs hooked around Aramis' left one to keep it still, and he looked at Porthos with a nod.

Athos sat beside him, leaning over Aramis and holding both of his arms down to the ground. "Do it," he said.

Porthos took a breath before tightening his grip on Aramis' leg and quickly thrusting the joint back where it belonged.

Aramis woke abruptly, giving a cry of pain that seemed to stab into each of their hearts.

Athos pressed Aramis' arms harder into the ground. "Aramis, calm yourself! Keep still!"

Aramis' entire body trembled and he groaned.

Treville looked at Porthos. "Did it work?"

Porthos nodded, looking faintly sick at having caused his friend so much pain.

Treville crawled over to Aramis' head, placing a hand on his hair. "It's over, you're fine, Aramis."

Aramis was gasping desperately, eyes squeezed shut. He eventually started to cough, ending it with another groan. "What..." he said, his voice raspy. "What..."

"Your hip was dislocated," Treville told him, as Athos released Aramis' arms.

"I'm sorry, Aramis," Porthos said, reaching over to put a hand on the side of his closest friend's face.

Aramis couldn't say anything else as he dealt with the awful pain. Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he moaned again.

Athos took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the sweat away.

"Where else is the pain, Aramis?" Treville asked him. "Besides your ribs? Do we need to look at your back?" If not, he'd rather not move him.

Aramis coughed again, wincing from the pain that it caused. "No," he mumbled. "Bruised."

Everyone was relieved to hear that; it appeared that his hip had taken the brunt of the tree's weight.

Suddenly, Aramis lifted his head from the ground. "The girl!"

"She's fine," Athos said, pressing his head back down to the ground. "Stay still."

Aramis coughed again, wincing painfully.

Porthos suddenly stood and gave an earsplitting whistle, hoping that it would retrieve their horses so they could take the waterskins off their saddles.

The three musketeers' steeds were amongst the first to arrive. Porthos' recognized his master's whistle, and the other two, who were together so much, had willingly followed.

"Good boy," Porthos said, stroking its nose as he retrieved the waterskins. He immediately brought Aramis' to his injured friend and Athos gently lifted his head so he could drink.

The water helped to cool Aramis' off a little, but he continued to cough, wincing and trying to suppress it when it continued to spread pain through his ribs.

Treville looked at him and the rest of the injured people with a sigh. "We'll have to stay here tonight," he said. "I'm going to send some of the others to Paris, to bring back some carts."

Athos nodded, and he and Porthos continued to watch Aramis, lying with his eyes closed. Pain lines pinched his face and his breath continued to occasionally hitch from the smoke still in his lungs that was too painful to cough out.

Athos wiped sweat away from Aramis' forehead and face again. "Can you move your leg?" he asked, wanting to make sure that the relocation of the joint had been successful.

Aramis opened his eyes and looked at him for a second before closing them again with a sudden wince.

Athos and Porthos looked at Aramis' leg, to see his booted foot move from side to side.

"Is that…good enough?" Aramis gasped.

"It'll have to be, for now," said Athos, wiping yet more sweat away from his friend's face. "Does the joint feel correctly placed?"

"I believe so," Aramis answered.

"Good," Athos said. "Then sleep."

The pain was bad enough to keep Aramis awake, yet at the same time, he was so exhausted that it felt as if someone was trying to pull his consciousness right out of his brain.

Porthos saw his struggle, and smoothed Aramis' sweaty hair back away from his forehead. "Just let go, Aramis. You'll feel better when you wake up."

Aramis opened his eyes just long enough to look at him, before he closed them again and finally let himself pass out.

Both friends were relieved to see Aramis' body relax, and neither of them left his side for the rest of the night.

No one had the heart to build a fire. The sounds of the nearby flames were audible in the quiet of the night, and they were all thankful that the wind was blowing away from them. They could still smell smoke though, and everyone desperately wished for morning so they could get away from there.

Aramis remained unconscious all night; his body too sleep-deprived to wake. Once morning came and with it carts from Paris, Porthos gently slid his arms under his friend and lifted him.

The pain and motion instantly woke Aramis, and he gave a soft cry of surprise.

"It's all right, I've got you," Porthos said. "We're going home." He quickly laid Aramis inside one of the carts and got him as comfortable as he could, and Athos sacrificed his doublet to place under their friend's injured hip to cushion it.

"How do you feel?" Athos asked. "Is the pain any better?"

It took a moment for Aramis to answer, as his body settled from the jostling. "Yes," he was relieved to say. "What about the others?" he asked, eyes tiredly closing.

"No one has grown worse," Athos told him.

Aramis was relieved at that. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but his lungs hitched and he coughed.

Porthos grasped his arm, ready with a waterskin when Aramis stopped coughing. He watched as Aramis winced and tried to breathe carefully around the pain in his ribs. "Here," he said, pulling him up slightly and holding the waterskin to his lips.

Aramis drank greedily, coughing again a little when he was done. He closed his eyes, trying to relax the painful tension in his body.

Porthos felt the change in Aramis' muscles and remained where he was instead of laying his friend flat again. "Is this position better?" he asked.

Aramis nodded slightly.

Porthos looked around, calling to the first musketeer he saw. "Bring me Aramis' saddle," he said.

The musketeer obeyed, placing it in the cart behind Aramis as instructed.

Porthos reclined Aramis against it. "How's that?"

"Good," Aramis said, eyes still closed. "Thank you."

Porthos squeezed his arm again, and then was surprised when two children climbed into the cart with a small crate and set it down on the other side of Aramis. "What's this?" Porthos asked.

"They'll make him feel better!" the girl exclaimed.

Porthos frowned, and his eyebrows shot up when she reached in and took out a tiny kitten before placing it on Aramis' chest.

Aramis opened his eyes, and was relieved to see that the kittens had been saved from the fire. A glance to his left showed him the mother cat inside the crate nursing the other two. The kitten on top of him had milk soaking the fur around its mouth, and it gave a mew of annoyance at the interruption of its breakfast.

Porthos chuckled at the unexpected sight.

Aramis loved cats, but he was in pain and exhausted. He smiled and pet the kitten, before shooting Porthos a glance.

Porthos understood immediately. "The little guy should finish eatin'," he said.

The girl took the kitten off Aramis and put it back inside. "You can play with them whenever you want," she said. "Mama Cat won't mind."

"Thank you," Aramis said, with a smile.

With that, the children got out of the cart and ran back to their parents.

Aramis closed his eyes and squirmed slightly, catching his breath with a wince when pain shot through his hip.

"No movin'," Porthos said. "What do you need?"

Aramis resettled, waiting for the pain to subside. "Nothing, I'm fine."

Porthos gave him a skeptical look. "I'll be ridin' right beside you. If you need anythin', I'm expectin' you to tell me."

Aramis nodded, closing his eyes again as sleep tried to steal him away.

The last few injured people were loaded into his cart, and soon, they were moving.

Aramis was grateful for Athos' doublet under his hip, as the trip was very painful. Sleep eluded him because of the uneven motion of the cart, and as time passed, the temperature rose, with the weather promising to be as hot and dry as the previous days.

Porthos quickly stripped off his own doublet and hung it on the side of the cart, and Aramis pulled it off and laid it over part of the crate to provide the cats with shade.

The sun was relentless, beating down on them without a single cloud to cover it. Aramis kept his hat pulled down to shield his face, but wearing a hat at all was helping to overheat him, and his breathing grew difficult with his injured ribs.

A sudden loud mew came from inside the crate, and Aramis opened his eyes, watching as two of the kittens scrabbled for the same milk source. Mama Cat lifted her head but was obviously unable to do anything, so Aramis reached into the crate and picked up one of the kittens and moved it to an uninhabited spot. The kitten latched on to feed, and Mama Cat laid her head back down.

Aramis left his hand inside the crate, absentmindedly petting her.

"Aramis?" he suddenly heard.

Aramis moved his head slightly, looking at his friends from under the brim of his hat. The motion made him dizzy.

"How ya feelin'?" It was Porthos.

It took a few seconds for Aramis to understand the words, which sounded far away to his ears. He blinked at Porthos as he tried to make sense of his question, while sweat rolled down one side of his face and his vision wavered. His breathing was raspy, difficult, and very painful, and it was suddenly all he could hear.

"Aramis?" said Porthos, after getting no response.

"Stop the cart!" Athos called, when Aramis still didn't answer.

The driver pulled back on the reins abruptly and Treville, having heard the shout, rode his horse over. "What is it?" he asked.

"Aramis," Athos simply said, as he and Porthos dismounted.

The big musketeer was inside the cart before anyone could blink, and Treville rode closer, stopping his horse beside Aramis and watching.

Porthos reached over and took hold of Aramis' head, looking into his eyes. "Hey," he said. "You with me?"

Aramis blinked blearily, feeling lightheaded as he breathed too fast in the stifling heat. "Yes," he said, coming back to himself slightly. "Why?"

"I was takin' to you but you weren't answerin'," Porthos told him. "Even though you were lookin' right at me." He took Aramis' waterskin and held it to his lips.

Aramis drank it, and was slightly surprised when Porthos quickly pulled it away.

"You know better than that," Porthos said. "Slowly."

Aramis obeyed, and afterwards, his vision righted itself and his mind cleared somewhat. "We stopped?" he noticed.

"Yes," said Athos, behind Porthos. "For the same reason as the answer to your previous question."

Aramis looked around, and when he saw the other injured people, he grew embarrassed. "I'm fine," he said. "There are others...hurt worse than I." His pause to take a breath in the middle of his sentence contradicted him.

"Actually, there aren't," said Porthos, shaking the waterskin and finding it nearly empty. "And none of them are havin' trouble breathin', either."

Hearing those words seemed to make Aramis even more aware of the pain. "Normal," he mumbled. "Due to the...circumstances."

"That doesn't mean that we should ignore it," said Athos. He looked at Treville. "We need to find more water."

Treville nodded. "I'll send some of the men ahead to the river. They can fill whatever empty waterskins we have and bring them back before the rest of us even get there."

Athos nodded. He turned to look in the direction that they'd come from, relieved that there were no more villages in the path of the fire. What he really wished for was rain.

A moment later, the cart was moving again.

Aramis could feel his friends watching him and he closed his eyes, wishing for sleep. It wasn't easy with the pain and motion of the cart, but exhaustion eventually won out and he fell into a half-awake state where he could still feel the cart moving and hear voices. He had no idea how much time passed before he realized that the cart had stopped again.

"Aramis?"

A hand touched the side of his face and Aramis opened his eyes.

"Drink," said Porthos. He held a waterskin to his lips and Aramis obeyed, surprised to find the water fresh. After he had his fill and the waterskin was pulled away, Aramis realized that he'd closed his eyes again at some point without even noticing. Breathing was still painfully hard, and the hat was suddenly taken off his head and a wet cloth wiped the sweat away from his forehead and face. It felt so good that he moaned with relief.

"How is he?" he suddenly heard Athos ask.

Porthos' reply was lost on Aramis, who drifted off again. When he woke once more, he was disoriented, as he found that trees were now over his head, providing wonderful shade. The cart was once again stopped, and Athos and Porthos were helping people get out of the cart.

Aramis looked around a little, realizing that they'd reached the river.

Porthos climbed into the cart and gave him a smile. "Ready to cool off?"

Aramis nodded, though he had a feeling that it was going to be painful.

Porthos carefully slid his arms under his friend, and Aramis sucked in a breath as he was lifted. Pain seared through his hip and ribs, and he automatically clutched the front of Porthos' doublet.

"Sorry, Aramis," Porthos said, mournfully.

Aramis gave no reply, managing to keep quiet as Porthos carried him to the river. Suddenly, he was in the cool water, sitting in the shallow end with his two friends beside him to keep him steady. He opened his eyes to see everyone jumping into the water fully clothed—thankfully—and he knew that their wet clothes would help keep them cool on the rest of the journey back to Paris.

"You all right?" Porthos asked.

Sitting was hurting his hip, but the earth underneath him was soft, providing some cushioning.

Porthos pulled him to lean against him, taking some of the pressure off his right side. He scooped up some water in his hand and poured it over Aramis' head.

Ten minutes later, Aramis' body temperature had fallen back to normal and some of his strength had returned. The cool water had provided some relief from the pain and he splashed more water on his face, feeling better as his breathing finally eased.

Porthos and Athos saw the change in him, and were visibly relieved.

Treville decided to stay at the river for the rest of the afternoon and camp there overnight. Some of the musketeers went hunting, and they built fires and managed to have enough meat for everyone.

"How's the pain?" Athos asked, after they'd eaten.

Aramis was lying on his bedroll, propped up against his saddle. "Improved."

"Do you think you can walk?" Porthos asked.

Aramis hesitated. "I don't know." Truthfully, he doubted it. The pain had been blinding in intensity at first, but it still throbbed steadily, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to put weight on his leg.

"Try tomorrow?" Porthos said.

Aramis nodded, with a yawn. It hurt his ribs and he grimaced, his body stiffening.

Athos and Porthos noticed, wishing they'd had something to wrap his ribs with. In their rush to evacuate the village, they hadn't taken any bandaging with them.

Aramis let out a careful breath, looking pale.

"Sleep," said Athos. "We'll figure things out in the morning."

Aramis tiredly nodded and closed his eyes.

Porthos studied his friend. "Are you comfortable enough in that position to sleep that way all night?"

Eyes still closed, Aramis assessed himself. Nothing could be done to make him truly 'comfortable' with the pain that he felt, but the bedroll provided cushioning, which he was thankful for.

"Aramis?"

Aramis realized that he hadn't answered. "Yes," he said, unable to reopen his eyes.

A hand squeezed his arm. "Porthos and I will be right beside you. Wake us if you need anything."

Aramis nodded slightly, before falling asleep.

Porthos looked at Athos with a sigh. "It's gonna be hot tomorrow," he whispered.

Athos nodded. In other words, Aramis had more suffering to look forward to.

The night remained much too warm, and despite Aramis' exhaustion, the pain woke him often. One of the times, he found Treville sitting beside him and he blinked blearily.

"You were groaning in your sleep," Treville told him.

Aramis nearly sighed but caught himself. He tried to shift slightly, catching his breath with a wince.

Treville placed a hand on his chest to stop him. "Don't move. What's wrong?"

"My leg," he whispered. "It's gone numb."

Treville looked towards the river, where Athos and Porthos were refilling their waterskins. He shifted down to where Aramis' knee was. "I'll bend your leg up, all right? Stop me if you need to."

Aramis nodded.

Treville put one hand on Aramis' shin and the other under his knee, and ever so carefully, pulled it up.

There was no pain in the leg itself, but Aramis' hip protested the shifting of the joint, and he closed his eyes and winced, holding his breath.

"Aramis?"

"Keep going," he managed to answer.

Treville obeyed, and Aramis felt the tingling immediately begin to lessen. His hip was throbbing worse in the new position, and he tried to let his breath out carefully to avoid hurting his ribs.

"Is that better?" Treville asked.

Aramis nodded. "Yes. Thank you."

"Of course," Treville answered. He sat there and watched his musketeer in the encroaching pre-dawn light, scooting closer again to wet a cloth and wipe new sweat from Aramis' forehead and face.

Athos and Porthos returned then, surprised to see Aramis' leg up.

"Did he do that himself?" Porthos asked, hopeful.

Treville shook his head. "His leg fell asleep so I moved it for him."

"Did it hurt 'im?"

Treville nodded.

Porthos sighed as they knelt beside their friend. They could see that he was awake, and Athos opened one of the waterskins.

"Aramis?" he said, holding it to his lips.

Aramis opened his eyes and drank his fill, before looking at them from where he reclined against the saddle.

"Feelin' any better?" Porthos asked.

Aramis nodded. Though still tired, his brain no longer felt as thick with exhaustion. "Are we leaving soon?" he asked.

"Yes," said Treville. "The sooner we go, the better, before it gets too hot."

Aramis was relieved at that. He was not looking forward to the effect that the heat would have on his breathing again because of his injured ribs.

The campsite was packed up and the injured people were again put into the carts.

"Do you want to see if you can stand?" Athos asked.

Aramis nodded, needing to know just how bad his injury was.

"I'll lift you and stand you up, all right?" Porthos said. Without waiting for an answer, he slid his arms under his friend and picked him up, before carefully setting him on his feet.

Athos grabbed him from the other side, and they both watched as Aramis stood there unsteadily, not putting weight on his right leg.

Aramis' breathing quickened and he hunched over a little, his ribs not enjoying the new position anymore than his hip did.

"Take it slow," Porthos said, tightening his grip. "We have you."

It took a minute for Aramis to get his breathing under control, and he finally let his boot touch the ground before hesitantly putting weight on his leg. The pain flared in his hip and he winced.

"That's enough," said Athos, not wanting him to do himself more damage.

"No! Wait," Aramis told him. He quickly used his right leg to take a step before Porthos could lift him again, and though it was staggering limp, he succeeded. The cost was an awful stab in his hip that made him give a soft cry of pain and his leg buckled.

"Aramis, Aramis," Porthos scolded as he stopped him from falling.

Aramis held onto his arm, panting from the pain.

Athos sighed and looked at Porthos. "I'll put his bedroll and saddle in the cart."

Porthos nodded, looking at Aramis' pale face as Athos let go and reached down to grab the bedroll. "You're not doin' your ribs any favors by breathin' like that."

Aramis knew that he was right, but he was trapped in a cycle; the pain was making him breathe heavily, while breathing heavily was causing more pain.

Athos came back, and Porthos carefully lifted Aramis and placed him in the cart on his bedroll, reclined upright against his saddle.

Unsurprisingly, the crate of cats was back in the same spot.

They both rode beside the cart again, and were relieved when Aramis eventually dozed off...the bedroll making him much more comfortable than he'd been the day before.

Time passed slowly and the temperature quickly rose, promising to be even hotter than expected. Everyone was drinking their water too fast, and Treville had to keep warning them not to or they would run out before they reached Paris.

Athos and Porthos rationed theirs, knowing that Aramis might eventually need it. They woke him to drink and were glad when he always fell back to sleep; at least he couldn't suffer that way.

Shortly after noon, Aramis woke by himself, finding sweat dripping down his face. The cart was stopped, and he was slightly surprised to find Athos in the cart beside him pouring water on a cloth.

Athos saw his eyes open and smiled slightly. "How are you feeling?"

Aramis only had one word for that. "Hot."

Athos reached over with the cloth and wiped the sweat away. "We should be back at the garrison in a couple of hours."

Aramis sighed with relief, before wincing at the pain. "Good," he said, breathlessly.

Food and water were passed around and they were soon moving again.

Aramis didn't fall back to sleep after that, breathing heavily and painfully in the stifling heat. The sun was blinding in the cloudless sky, and Aramis prayed for rain. He drank his waterskin empty, having been asleep when Treville had told everyone not to drink all of their water, so he didn't realize that the one that Porthos handed him afterwards was his own.

Athos offered his own waterskin to Porthos, who took a small swig and handed it back.

After that, Aramis slumped back against the saddle as much as he could, eyes closed as he held the waterskin in his lap.

Suddenly, Mama Cat jumped out of the box, startling Aramis, who reopened his eyes.

The cat looked at him before sitting down and licking one of her paws.

Aramis looked into the box to see that the kittens were all asleep, and he suddenly realized that she must be thirsty. He poured some water into his cupped hand and held it near her face, hoping that she would understand.

Thankfully, the cat did, after sniffing his hand. She lapped it up quickly, and Aramis gave her more until she stopped drinking. Then, to his surprise, she climbed onto his lap and laid down with a *plop*.

Aramis winced from the pain, but he hadn't the heart to push her away. Instead, he reached over and gently stroked her fur.

Athos and Porthos watched, with the bigger musketeer chucking at the sight.

The cat started to purr, and the soothing sound helped Aramis doze off.

When he woke again, they were home.

Athos and Porthos were opening the back of the cart, and Aramis opened his eyes in time to see the cat lift her head to look at them. She stood up and jumped back into the box.

"Out you go, Aramis," said Porthos.

Aramis said nothing as he let his friend lift him and carry him off, and he gave a painful sigh of relief after they were inside out of the sun. A minute later, he was placed on his bed and the curtains were thrown open to let in air.

"Doctor's comin'," Porthos told him, as he carefully removed his friend's sweaty shirt.

"Don't need one," Aramis mumbled, sleepy again now that he was lying on his soft bed.

"Of course you do!" said Porthos.

"He can't do anything for my hip or ribs," Aramis said, reopening his eyes. "They'll heal."

"Well, we just gonna make sure," Porthos told him.

The doctor was there fifteen minutes later, and to Aramis' amusement, told them that there was nothing that he could do. He was horrified that they'd relocated Aramis' hip by themselves, but he also said that if they hadn't, the joint swelling would be so bad by now that they would've had to wait until it receded.

"So it was actually a good thing?" Porthos said, shooting a look of relief at Athos.

"In _this_ case," the doctor answered, before looking at Aramis. "If it had been done incorrectly, you'd be in a lot of trouble right now."

"They've seen me relocate a bone many times," Aramis told him. "I'm not surprised that they succeeded."

The doctor wrapped Aramis' ribs and told him to rest. "You need the joint to heal and become stable again," he said. "When you do eventually get out of bed, you'll need assistance walking for a while."

Aramis sighed at that.

"We won't let him out of our sight," Porthos told him.

The doctor nodded and left.

Aramis fell asleep after that, and slept straight through to the next morning.

"Well, it's about time."

Aramis blinked at the face looking down at him, finding that it was Treville. "Captain?"

Treville sat in the chair beside the bed. "I sent Athos and Porthos to their quarters to change. They stayed here all night in the same sweaty clothes."

"That must've been odorous," Aramis commented.

Treville smiled. "I figured you had enough to deal with beside a stench. How are you feeling?"

"Better," Aramis told him. "The pain has improved."

"I'm glad," Treville said. "I've seen many dislocated shoulders in my day but never a dislocated hip. That takes longer to heal, I imagine?"

Aramis reluctantly nodded. "People don't put their full body weight on their shoulder."

Treville nodded back. "That's what I figured."

Aramis carefully sighed, trying not to wince at what the motion did to his ribs.

Treville knew very well what a man of action Aramis was, and how hard it was for him to keep still. "Just rest, you'll be fine before you know it."

Aramis nodded, saying nothing.

Athos and Porthos arrived soon after, and brought breakfast, after which Aramis said something they never expected.

"I have to get up."

They both looked at him with surprise. "What?" said Porthos.

"I can't remain in bed until my hip heals," said Aramis. "If I don't get the joint moving, it'll seize up and land me in a worse state."

Athos and Porthos looked at each other, having not realized. Athos immediately stood and reached out a hand to help him up.

Aramis sat up slowly, letting them both help him get to the side of the bed. That simple motion made him break out into a sweat from the still-raging heat and humidity, and they pulled him upright, holding onto him tightly when he failed to hold in a groan.

"Slowly," said Athos. "We have all day."

Aramis obeyed, letting himself catch his breath a little before putting weight on his leg. Pain seared through his hip, but it wasn't as bad as the first time he'd tried.

Both of the others held him tightly as he took a step, and they were glad when he succeeded, even though he'd only put weight on it for a second.

"How's it feel?" Porthos asked.

Aramis was breathing heavily. "Terrible," he said, telling the truth for once. "But I have no choice." He took another hopping step, and they helped him take two more before Athos called a halt.

"How far do you plan to go?" Athos asked.

Aramis was practically gasping, the heat and pain taking their toll. His answer was one more step, and then he leaned his weight on Porthos.

"Smart man," Porthos said, as he took all of Aramis' weight and sat him down on the bed.

Aramis hung his head, his sweaty hair hiding his face. "Bath," he said.

Athos looked at Porthos. "Get a tub up here, he can't walk to the bathhouse."

Porthos nodded and left.

Athos crouched in front of his suffering friend so he could see into his face. "Don't you want to lie down until it's ready?"

Aramis looked at him, lifting his head a little and pushing his hair back. "My sheets are sweaty enough."

"Then I will change them once you're in the tub," Athos told him. He took hold of his friend and helped him recline on the bed.

Aramis laid back and closed his eyes, unexpectedly dozing off until he heard Porthos and some of the other musketeers bring the tub into the room. It wasn't long before it was full of water and Aramis was inside it, carefully sighing with relief as it cooled his overheated body.

"I'm jealous," Porthos suddenly said.

"Hmm?" Aramis said, eyes closed.

"You get to keep this tub in here until you heal."

Aramis opened his eyes and smirked at him. "At least _one_ good thing came of this."

The next few days passed slowly, with Athos and Porthos helping Aramis walk around his room as much as he could handle. It wasn't easy, but Aramis was determined to get back on his feet as fast as possible. The bruised ribs were an additional hindrance.

Finally, Aramis was sick of staying in his bed, pain or not. "I want to go outside today," he told his friends.

"In that heat?" Athos asked, surprised.

Aramis nodded. "I need a change of scenery."

Porthos smiled. "Maybe the sight of Aramis will make the sky dump some rain!"

Aramis looked at him. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult."

Porthos laughed.

Fifteen minutes later, Athos and Porthos were helping Aramis slowly make his way outside. Porthos was on Aramis' right, where he needed the most support, and it took an embarrassingly-long time to get to the table. They sat Aramis down on a pillow to cushion his hip, and looked around at the empty courtyard. Treville was humanely keeping everyone out of the sun, and the place seemed deserted.

"Let us know the minute you need to go back inside," said Athos, knowing that Aramis' breathing would be affected by the heat with his healing ribs.

Aramis nodded, taking the waterskin that Porthos handed to him.

"What are you doing out _here_?!" they suddenly heard.

Looking up, they saw Treville looking down from his balcony.

"What are _you_ doing out here?" Aramis answered.

Treville shook his head and came down the stairs.

"I have a good reason," said Aramis. "I'm sick of staying inside." He pointed up. "And look, clouds to block the sun."

Everyone looked up to see that he was right; the sky was overcast, with clouds reaching the sun as they watched.

"At least that'll give us a break," said Porthos.

Treville sat down with them, feeling the difference in the temperature in the shade. No sooner had he, that rain suddenly poured down from the sky.

"I don't believe it!" Porthos exclaimed. "I was right!"

Aramis laughed.

Within minutes, the courtyard was full of musketeers, taking the opportunity to let the rain cool them off.

The next day was cooler; the stifling heat and humidity were finally broken.

"I want to go outside again," Aramis said to Athos. "Where's Porthos?"

"He had an errand," Athos said. "He should be back momentarily. In the meantime, I'll help you dress."

Porthos came in as Athos was getting Aramis' boots on, and he was holding something behind his back.

Aramis immediately noticed "What're you hiding?"

"Oh, nothin'," Porthos said. "Just this." With that, he held out a walking stick.

Aramis blinked with surprise. It wasn't a typical cane, it was dark brown with a silver knob on top...matching his uniform. "You bought that?"

Porthos nodded. "We had it made. Athos, me, and the captain."

Aramis looked at Athos, who had a slight smile on his face.

Porthos handed it to him, and they watched as Aramis looked it over.

"It's beautiful," said Aramis, with a smile. "Thank you. I'll treasure it forever."

"We know you will," said Athos. "That is why we bought one that is worthy of you."

Aramis was touched and unable to keep the delight off his face.

Porthos reached for Aramis' arm and they carefully pulled him upright.

"Be careful," said Athos. "Don't overbalance yourself."

Aramis nodded, keeping his weight off his leg until he touched the walking stick to the floor.

Porthos and Athos both kept hold of him as Aramis carefully took one step and then another. He continued to limp along until finally telling them to let go.

"You sure?" Porthos asked.

Aramis nodded, so he reluctantly did, following him with his hands outstretched in case his friend faltered.

Athos watched them, relieved to see that Aramis was doing fine.

Eventually, they went outside, and Porthos had to laugh as he watched Aramis limp around enjoying his new freedom. He went to see his horse and gave her a treat.

"This is my last apple, Bella," Aramis said as he stroked her nose. "I'll have to buy you more."

Bella gave a soft neigh as if to say that she wasn't worried, she knew that her master would always supply her with whatever she wanted.

The next day, the oppressive heat didn't come back; the air was pleasantly warm. Athos and Porthos had stayed in their own rooms the night before now that Aramis was mobile, but when they went to his room that morning, they found it empty.

Looking out the window, they spotted him sitting at their table with his walking stick, so they quickly went outside and Porthos exclaimed, "Impatient, are we?"

Aramis looked at them and smiled, getting to his feet and leaning both hands on the stick. "Indeed we are...it's market day and I promised Bella more apples." With that, he started limping towards the gate.

Athos frowned as he watched him go. "Aramis! Breakfast first?"

"We can get something at the bakery!" Aramis called back.

"He's going to limp to the bakery a half-mile away?" Porthos said to Athos.

"It appears so." Athos shook his head with a sigh. "Well...let's catch up to him, then."

Porthos laughed at the irony as they hurried after their friend.

THE END


End file.
